


Hiding From Prying Eyes

by lenore_writing



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hobbit Kink Meme, M/M, Oral Sex, blanket fort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:05:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenore_writing/pseuds/lenore_writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aidan doesn't let just anyone into his blanket fort. Written for The Hobbit kink meme on LiveJournal and inspired by terminallyinfatuated's gorgeous drawing on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hiding From Prying Eyes

Dean wasn’t a person to be easily shocked by anything. He was too easy-going, too relaxed to do much more than shake his head at most of the bizarre situations in life. However, as he stepped inside Aidan’s trailer on a sunny, warm and delightful day off he did raise an eyebrow in wonder.

“What’s happened here?” Dean asked a perky and red-faced Aidan, who had magically popped up right next to him like some demented jack-in-the-box.

“Like it?” Aidan asked as he steered Dean in the direction of the construction. Not that it was possible to get too far away from it: the _thing_ took up most of the floor space of Aidan’s trailer, starting at the bed in the corner, flowing across the table and past the kitchenette to end right next to the door.

“What is it?” Dean asked in lieu of answering Aidan’s question, even though he had a pretty clear idea of what it was. He simply hadn’t seen something like it since childhood and that was longer ago than Dean cared to think about.

“A blanket fort, of course.” Aidan frowned, “What does it look like?”

“Like some lunatic tried to imitate Christo. Ouch!” Dean rubbed his arm where Aidan had just punched him. He took a step closer to the tent and gingerly lifted a corner of one of the blankets where it rested on the kitchenette counter, held there by the water cooker.

“Oi! Don’t ruin it!” Aidan protested, pushing Dean’s hand away and making sure that the blanket was still secure. Dean simply raised an eyebrow. “Alright, so we’ve established you will not become an architect should Peter decide to rip up your contract.” He neatly sidestepped another punch aimed in his general direction and looked up at Aidan. “What now?”

Aidan beamed, obviously happy that he and his fort finally got the attention which they deserved, and brightly stated, “Now we get inside.”

Dean recoiled as if finding himself eye to eye with a venomous serpent. “Oh no, we won’t.”

That was all it took for Aidan’s intense frown to make a reappearance. “Don’t be a spoilsport, man.”

Dean shook his head and crossed his arms.”Aidan, it’s insane.”

He was all for pranks and plain old silliness, but this was downright odd, even if it were just the two of them who would know.

“Lighten up.” That was one of Aidan’s better traits: he was almost impossible to annoy. On the other hand, if he had his mind set on something there was no chance in hell to get him to relent. “We have a day off. We are supposed to do something fun. _Thi_ s is fun.”

“How old are you? Nine?”

“Oh, come on. You know you want to.” And Aidan winked and grinned that impish grin that helped him get away with almost anything and Dean knew he was lost. He tried one last feeble attempt at annoyance by rolling his eyes, but he got down on his knees nonetheless and followed Aidan inside his self-made contraption.

It was cosy, Dean had to admit that much. The blankets created walls and nooks and crannies, and pillows were artfully arranged right in the centre of the space and Dean couldn’t escape the thought that he would have loved it as a kid. It was also boiling hot inside, the blankets keeping the heat of the sun trapped, and Dean fanned his face.

“Hot?” was all Aidan asked, grin still fixed firmly in place. Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, which was beginning to feel decidedly sticky, and shrugged. “It’s summer.”

The smile that graced Aidan’s face was positively wicked. He beckoned Dean closer with a finger and quipped, “Let me help you with that.”

“I think that what you have in mind might make matters even worse,” Dean answered, but now he grinned too, shaking his head in amused resignation and doing exactly what Aidan had suggested.

They met in the middle of the blanket fort, surrounded by pillows and soft walls that filtered the light and turned it a deep golden hue. It was Dean’s hand that came up to pull Aidan in for a kiss, fingers caressing the stubbly angle of a jaw, the cocked set of a dark eyebrow. At last he pulled away to smile into Aidan’s eyes. “You crazy leprechaun.”

“Leprechaun? Really?” Aidan laughed heartily and Dean knew he would never tire of that sound. “You really do come up with the daftest expressions.”

Deft fingers pulled Dean’s t-shirt up until he was forced to raise his arms so Aidan could get rid of the offending item of clothing.

“Admit it,” Aidan continued as his own shirt sailed through the air to land on top of Dean’s in the corner. “You like me slightly unhinged.”

“Maybe a little,” Dean admitted, but he was already preoccupied tackling the buttons of Aidan’s jeans. He wouldn’t admit it to Aidan, but the idea of making love under a canopy of fluffy softness was actually starting to look better with each passing second. Perhaps Aidan – silly, enthusiastic, playful Aidan – and his outside-the-box thinking weren’t all that bad after all. It took no more than a minute before they were both naked and tangled together, mouths hungrily devouring lips and tongues and skin, hands twisting in hair and caressing exposed flesh.

“It reminds me of Bag End, all underground and cosy,” Aidan murmured, the last syllable ending on a harsh hiss as Dean bit sharply at the tendon between neck and shoulder.

“It reminds me of Bilbo’s dressing robe,” Dean replied, indicating the patchwork of blankets with one hand, even though he knew Aidan would not be able to see him with his head buried against his neck, but then he twined his fingers in Aidan’s curls and pulled him in for another kiss. Aidan hummed his appreciation against Dean’s lips, but this time it was he who finally pulled away to gasp for air. He leaned back against the pillows, a come hither look adorning his handsome features, making Dean shiver. Dean watched, mesmerised, as the light that filtered through the blankets painted Aidan’s skin yellow and orange and red, like a watercolour painting. He traced Aidan’s lips with a curious finger, then laughed as Aidan tried to nip at him.

“Behave,” Dean whispered, tapping the tip of Aidan’s nose. He took another long moment to simply admire Aidan as he lay there, naked and beautiful and thoroughly aroused, his long legs bent and his arms slack by his side. Dean wondered whether Aidan might hate him terribly if he ran off to get his camera from his own trailer, but only for a second. Instead he tried to make a mental picture of what his eyes perceived: the colours, the long, flowing lines, the way Aidan’s eyes had turned nearly black with lust. It was a work of art. Dean was awoken from his reveries by a foot kicking him gently in the thigh.

“Dean? Do something.”

Dean smiled at the pleading tone and leaned forward, taking Aidan’s lips in a tender kiss. With their ridiculous schedule they rarely had time for truly languorous love-making and it was nigh time to rectify that.

“What do you want?” Dean asked as he pulled back, his hand tracing abstract patterns on Aidan’s chest. Aidan’s breath hitched in his throat as Dean rubbed one of his nipples, his own hands coming up to tug Dean closer. Dean let him, happily being prodded and pulled until they were lying chest to chest and Aidan could veer up to claim Dean’s mouth. Their tongues played a slow game of chase whilst their hands roamed over bare skin. At last Aidan pulled back with a soft sucking sound, lips moving south to murmur against Dean’s neck.

“Anythin’,” he answered, his brogue thickening with lust, “Just stop your bloody teasin’.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He licked a wet line down Aidan’s neck and chest, seeking out one nipple to nip sharply at, immediately licking the sting away again. Aidan whimpered, pushing his chest up for more. Dean bestowed the same attention on the other sensitive nub, but he wasn’t in the mood for dawdling either. Further down Dean went, the sound of Aidan’s quickened breathing creating a pool of warm anticipation in the pit of his own stomach. He only paused to dip his tongue into the hollow of Aidan’s belly button, making the younger man giggle and squirm.

“Stop that,” he demanded, pushing Dean’s head away and down. “Better use that tongue elsewhere, O’Gorman.”

Dean chuckled at Aidan’s impatience: he was so easy to tease, but even though Dean usually relished torturing Aidan in the sweetest ways possible, he too was starting to have a hard time stalling. His mouth continued downward, carefully avoiding Aidan’s prick where it lay hard and heavy against one lean thigh. Instead he trailed his tongue down the crease between leg and crotch, making Aidan quiver and moan. It was then, and only then, that Dean took pity on Aidan and without further preamble he took Aidan’s cock into his mouth. Hands fisted in Dean’s hair, guiding him lower, closer, and Dean was quick to comply. His head bobbed up and down, one hand coming up to cup and roll Aidan’s balls, whilst the other closed tightly around the base of Aidan’s arousal, moving in tandem with his lips and tongue. Dean’s eyes remained on Aidan, on the light and the blankets that haloed those dark curls, and he couldn’t help but wonder at how mesmerising it all was. Better than any set or digital Weta magic; better than any illusion Peter could conjure up because that was all make-belief and that moment, just them, nobody else, in their own little world, was real.

It didn’t take long. Aidan, who had probably spent the better part of the morning plotting and planning and fucking _building_ was too far gone to last long. He moaned long and low, head twisting on the pillows as his eyes squeezed shut as he came hard down Dean’s throat. Dean only just managed to swallow convulsively around Aidan, ripping a final broken sound of pleasure from his throat. Aidan was panting like he had just run a marathon when Dean lay down next to him, hands gentle on sweat-sodden skin to guide him down from his high. Luckily for Dean Aidan was rarely out for long: he was still painfully hard, even more so after pleasuring the man whose left ear he was currently kissing.

“Do something,” Dean echoed Aidan’s earlier words, taking Aidan’s hand and pushing it down his abdomen and between his legs. Aidan gave a tired chuckle and turned Dean’s way, lips meeting for one short instant. At the first brush of fingers over over-sensitized skin Dean groaned; at the first glide of a fist he simply pinched his eyes shut and bit his lower lip.

“Good?” Aidan whispered in Dean’s ear just before he tugged his earlobe between his teeth. Dean could do nothing but sigh in pleasure. Nimble fingers played him like a musician would play the violin: hitting all the right notes to build up to a breathtaking crescendo. Dean’s hips snapped forward in time to Aidan’s rhythm and it wasn’t long before that tell-tale feeling of coiling heat began to spread in his lower body. Pleasure pulsed through him, unstoppable like a tornado, and with a hoarse _Aidan_ Dean finally peaked, streaking his belly and Aidan’s hand white.

They rested together in sated silence, hands languidly meandering over warm, sticky skin. Dean pressed a lazy kiss to Aidan’s shoulder and muttered, “What gave you this idea anyway?”

“Complaining?” Aidan replied but there was humour in his voice and Dean chuckled.

“Not in the slightest.”

Aidan’s arm came up to pull Dean closer and he kissed the top of his golden head. “I found the blankets in a cupboard and, well…” He trailed off and Dean felt him shrug beneath him. “I was bored. Besides, I like blanket forts.”

“You’re such a child,” Dean said, but the words were dripping with fondness, and almost as an afterthought he added, “Don’t ever change.”


End file.
